Let Me See the Light
by Loveless4life
Summary: Ivan Braginski is a Russian student in an English school suffering from depression. Everyone hates him. And when he finally tries to end it all he comes to terms that some people actually care. Warnings: Suicide. Pairings: Rochu. Also mentions of Prucan and GerIta.


_**Warnings:**_ There is mentions of suicide in this and it's a bit dark, sorry.

_**Pairings: **_RoChu, main. Also mentions PruCan and GerIta.

**Let Me See the Light.**

There was an unwelcome silence once again as Ivan opened the door to his house.  
"I'm home!" He called out, knowing it would get no reply, but he tried anyway. The oak door to the kitchen that was right in front of him opened with a ear wrecking creak and his older sister peered out. She was a maths teacher in the school down the road. To her students she was the happy and joyful Ms. Braginskaya, to Ivan though, she was the lone and sorrowful Yekatrina.

"Welcome home," She said, her voice still holding the heavy Ukrainian accent she had since she was born. "Is Natalya not with you?"

Ivan shook his head. Natalya was his younger sister. She was a mad, insane and annoying young girl, who had grown up not knowing the love of parents or anyone else. Of course Ivan was the same. The only care he had known throughout his childhood was that of his sister, and he never said she was good at looking after him. Her crying and loneliness had got the better of her. Inside she was melting away because of her long lasting depression.

Ivan flung his grey coloured bag off his back and it landed beside a pile of unopened letters. Most were from family members back in Russia saying that Natalya and himself should be minded by proper adults and not a broken young girl. Others were unpaid bills, that Yekatrina was trying her hardest to pay. Though she was secretly a heavy drinker, and money was very scarcely left over.

"Would you like dinner? I'm making it now." She said her hands to her chest. Ivan looked away from her, and down to the ground. He shrugged his shoulders, "I don't care."

"Oh, well it'll be ready in ten minutes!" She forced herself to smile, and Ivan always knew when it was forced. The only time he had ever seen her genuinely smile was when they were with their parents back in Russia. Though they were only kids back then. Now Ivan was fifteen, and his elder sister twenty-seven, Ivan hadn't seen anyone smile in so long.

As his sister left him in the hallway, he decided the go upstairs. His room wasn't much. It was a dark grey in colour, with a broken bed and an unsteady desk, he had no washing basket so his clothes from previous days were thrown on the floor until his sister did the washing, though other than that no one was allowed in. And, he only had one small window, which was probably the best think about it.

With a long sigh he fell back onto his bed, which gave off an unpleasant creaking sound. He put a hand through his blond locks of hair, thinking about tomorrow and the next day, and the next. They'd all be the same, everyday of his goddamned life was the same!

As was said ten minutes later his sister called for dinner and at the same time Natalya came bursting through the front door huffing and puffing in anger. Ivan sat down at the table the same time the little girl did. She was muttering curses under her breath, something must have happened.

"So," Yekatrina finally sat down. "Where were you Natalya?"

Natalya seemed to freeze, her eyebrows furrowed, she was clutching onto her utensils a bit too tightly that her palms were even going a pink colour.

"Stupid teacher!" The twelve-year-old spat. "She held me back again!"

"Why?" Ivan asked as it seemed no one else was going to.

"It's that stupid Latvian's fault! He started crying because I punched him! And then he told his mother and she complained to the teacher, and she made me go to the principal's office! It's so not fair!" She complained banging her knife harshly on the table. Ivan sighed, his sister always got in trouble over him, well, if it wasn't him, it was that Estonian across the street.

"Natalya! You shouldn't punch people in the first place." Yekatrina scolded, though Natalya was anything but listening.

"I hate it here in London! I just can't fit in!" She said and Ivan could agree on that one.

"I know, but we can't go back. You'll be taken away from me, and I couldn't live without you two." Yekatrina said lovingly fixing Natalya's bow that had become crooked.

For the rest of dinner and that night it was silent. Natalya went to bed at ten, so until twelve it was only Ivan and Yekatrina. They were watching the Russian news on TV. In the 1960's, Russia was all over the news and not for good things, which made Yekatrina wary. Everyone in the neighbourhood knew they were from Russia so she was frightened they might attack the house, worse still, they could all be killed.

And finally the next day came. Ivan hadn't gotten any sleep, not that he ever listened in class anyway, so he was kind of tired. And Natalya being all energetic in the morning didn't help. She ran done the hill and waved goodbye as she ran into her primary school. The secondary school was further down and around the corner.

"So, what do you have first class Ivan?" Yekatrina asked waving at a few of her students who passed her. Ivan kicked a stone, his hands deep in his pockets, his head down. "Eh, Mr. Beilschmidt for History."

"I forgot you have Gilbert for History! He's nice, yes?" Yekatrina asked, laughing at the thought of Gilbert in history. Gilbert was also a maths teacher so she knew him quite well.

"No. He's not nice at all. Well maybe it's just me." Ivan sighed. That teacher hated him, and he hated that teacher. They never got along, and Mr. Beilschmidt always found a way to embarrass him.

"Oh," Was Yekatrina's confused reply.

Walking into Mr. Beilschmidt's class when he wasn't there was quite usual. Mr. Beilschmidt, the principal's older brother, was never in class on time. He was always doing something else. Whether it was chatting to other teachers, or flirting, well trying to flirt, with that Canadian kid who was meant the be at another class.

"Kesesese~ Okay class let's get started!" The door shut and the silver hair man came in to the room holding his history book and a cup of freshly brewed coffee. Ivan looked out the window already bored of the lesson even though it hadn't started. When he looked across he could see into his sister's class. She was pointing to the board, a joyful smile on her face. She was currently teaching the 5th years, most of which were all older than Ivan at 16 and 17 years of age.

"Oi, oi! Russian down the back, pay attention!" The teacher called out and everyone turned and looked straight up into his face. Honestly, it was like they had never seen a Russian before.  
"Sorry sir."

"Haha, it's okay Ivan, I know you were just looking out for your girlfriend in the class over there!" The teacher laughed and so did the rest of the class. Ivan threw his head back, "If we are really going to get into conversations about relationships, sir, I think you should stop flirting with boy eleven years your junior."

There was a choir of, 'oh's' that surrounded the class room and Mr. Beilschmidt held his breath. Then he gave Ivan a smile. The smile was obviously to hide his raging anger, his red coloured eyes that made him an albino shined ruby, his fist clenched at his sides.

"Oh Ivan, what'll we do with you?" The smile was still there though his voice had cracked, his angry side showing through. "Just go down to the principal."

"Wait, what? Nyet! I didn't do anything!" Ivan complained banging his fist off the desk a little too harshly. "Just go Ivan!"

"Again? Mr. Braginski zis is the fourth time this veek that you've been sent down here by Gil- I mean Mr. Beilschmidt!" The principal's office was a usual sight for the young Russian. He had memorized the floor by now, every inch of the detailed pattern, and he had noticed how the wallpaper was the same design only different colour. He also memorized what the principal had on his desk. A photo of Mr. Vargas, the home ec. teacher who was known to cook nothing but pasta, the picture was there because everyone knew they were going out. Also on the desk was all the normal stationary and files, and an iron cross, which was a bit abnormal to Ivan.

"Ivan are you even listening?" The principal asked and Ivan came back to the real world. "Yes, sir, sorry."

"Vhat do I have to do to make you listen?" Ludwig said blowing a strand of loose hair from his face. "Nothing. I promise I won't bother you anymore. I'm sorry."

Ivan said flatly before standing and walking out the door despite the German's angry calls. When out of the principal's office he fiddled around in his bag, before finding what he was looking for: A full vodka bottle. He took of the top, throwing it to the ground violently before gulping back the contents of the silver bottle. He walked off then, skipping his classes to go to the attic not even noticing the boy that stood behind him the whole time.

"Hm, why is life so cruel?" He wasn't talking to anyone in particular, it wasn't as if anyone would listen anyway. The now empty bottle, once full of vodka, was hanging from his fingers, just about to fall, his head was back against the wall, tear stains ran down both sides of his face. "Why!?"

The bottle was thrown against the wall, smashing into a million deadly shards of glass. He laughed, hiding the pain that he felt inside, was there no way out?

In the hand that hadn't held the vodka, was a long rope. He tied the end into a loop, but didn't move to get up. If you had to describe what he was feeling, the words you would use were hurt, lonely, but most of all confused. Why? He kept questioning. If his parents hadn't been killed in that crash then he wouldn't have to put up with this. His heart wouldn't have broken when he saw his mother close her eyes for the last time, one of her hands holding his, the other holding that of his dead father.

And then he made the move. To a pipe in the centre of the room on the roof. Each step standing for a pain. One: His parents, their death, his loss. Two: His sister. The times he cried and she ignored. Three: Hatred. Everyone hated him. Why would it matter if he was gone? Four: School. How many times had he failed and was tortured because of it? And finally five: Love. He was never loved. He couldn't remember the last time he was held tightly by someone who loved him.

And he was there, and in minutes the rope was tied around the pipe and again he found himself fidgeting. He knew this was wrong, though he found no hope in anything else. Another final step and he was there right under the rope. He closed his eyes, taking it in his hands. A final prayer, a final breath and he would be dead.

"Stop! You might not want to do that." The soft voice shocked Ivan and he stepped back looking around though seeing no one in the unusually dark room.

"You don't know what I've been through!" He barked, not thinking, still holding the rope tightly ready at any minute to tighten it around his neck.

"You shouldn't end your life over it, I know that much." Came the calm reply. The Russian looked at the rope again, a confused look appearing on his face. "B-But everyone hates me."

"I don't." Footsteps and Ivan could now see a silhouette. A small person, though that was all Ivan could see. "You don't even know me!

That was said in an accidental shout and Ivan was nearly sure he had scared the person away, but the shadow was still there. "I don't have to know you to think you're a good person."

And then Ivan fell to his knees. The words hitting him right in the chest. No one had ever called him nice. Let alone say they liked him, or even bothered to talk to him. Before he knew it tears ran down his face once again. He was weak, angry, frustrated all at once. All-in-all he was a teenager trying to fit into a society of people who hated him. The shadow suddenly disappeared and a young boy came out from the darkness. He was the most exotic thing Ivan had ever seen. Long, silky black hair, small, with a very thin frame. His amber eyes stood out the most in the darkness, like they were highlighted. Ivan let his breath go when he realised he had been holding it.

"Please don't cry, aru."

Ivan felt a hand touch his shoulder and he looked up, seeing the boy fully now. A look of pure concern crossed the young boy's face.

"I'm Wang Yao, but you can call me Yao, aru."

"I-Ivan." He replied not being able to say anything else. He was intrigued by the stranger. Why would someone try to help him?

"Ivan? That's a nice name, aru. You are Russian, aru?" Yao asked as he took a seat on the ground beside the kneeling youngster. "Yes. W-Why... Why did you help me?"

"The question is, why would you want to take your own life, aru? You have a whole life ahead of you, aru." Yao said and Ivan fell back into a sitting position. "No one needs me. I'm useless and hated. Why continue on with bad life?"

"You are not useless, aru. Out there is someone who cares and loves you. I care for you, aru." Confused, Ivan looked the boy in the eyes. Violet meeting a pair of saddened amber. "Really?"

"Yes, aru." And he was pulled in for a hug. Ivan's eyes widened, he hadn't a clue where to put his hands, he froze. Yao was so warm. One of his large hands wrapped fully around the other boy's waist and Ivan pulled him closer, beginning again to cry on his shoulder. Yao smiled putting a hand through the Russian's blonde locks, chanting, 'It's okay, It's okay.'

For once Ivan knew someone cared.

**Loveless4life here! This is a part of my school AU, I have another one called 'The French Teacher and the English Student'. It's FrUK, just to let you know. I'm sorry if this is a bit dark, but I have depression and like to write down my feelings. **

**Anyways I hope you liked, and please review!**


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